


Five Times + 1

by Esperata



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5 Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Five times Spock sees McCoy half-naked and one time he doesn't...





	1. Clementine

**Author's Note:**

> StellarLibraryLady - this is not the 5 times fic you were expecting.

The away team materialised back on board ship and immediately both Kirk and Spock moved to prevent McCoy toppling down off the platform.

“Goddamn transporters,” he grumbled, momentarily too distracted rubbing his pounding head to wave away the support of his friends.

“The effect is not caused by the transporter,” Spock informed him. “Do you not recall that you were drugged?”

McCoy gave up on his headache to glare at the Vulcan.

“Goddamn hobgoblins,” he announced instead.

Spock raised a solitary eyebrow.

“ _I_ was not responsible for drugging you.”

On the other side of McCoy, Jim tried to coax the doctor towards the exit.

“Come on Bones. Let’s get you to sickbay.”

“I’m not on duty!” McCoy protested, trying to extricate his arm from Kirk’s grip. “M’Benga or Sanchez or someone else can check you over.”

Jim sighed.

“I want them to check _you_ over,” he told him.

“I don’t need checking over! ‘M perfectly fine!”

He finally managed to twist his arm from the captain’s grasp. His triumph was short lived as without the balanced support he swung towards the floor. Spock intercepted the movement and caught one long arm around the doctor’s middle to hold him upright.

“You’re _not_ fine,” Jim insisted. “You can’t even stand up unaided!”

“’s nothing a bit o’ rest won’t fix. Jus’ let me go to quarters and sleep.”

Jim stared at him a long moment, calculating possibilities.

“If I agree you can go back to quarters, will you let Spock escort you?”

McCoy’s lip set in a firm line but then he mumbled, “Yeah.”

“Alright then,” Jim agreed, “but I’ll have someone from medical stop by there to check you over. No arguments.”

McCoy nodded wearily but clearly regretted the movement as he grimaced and clutched his head again. Spock adjusted his grip.

“Come Doctor,” he suggested, gently pulling the doctor into motion.

McCoy stepped forward and knocked straight into Spock’s side. He rebounded and would have fallen except for the iron grip the Vulcan still had on him.

“It would be more efficient if I carried you,” Spock suggested.

Kirk snorted, unable to immediately contain his amusement at the thought.

McCoy attempted to glare but his focus was off.

“I’m a doctor! Not a damsel in distress.”

“Very well,” Spock acquiesced, knowing full well it would not be at all efficient to attempt reasoning with the doctor in his current state. Instead he urged them into motion again, this time compensating for McCoy’s weaving path. The result was the pair zigzagging away down the corridor towards crew quarters.

They drew some curious glances but the sight wasn’t unusual enough on board the _Enterprise_ for any commentary.

That was until the doctor began to sing.

“ _Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’,_  
_Oh my darlin’ Clementine…_ ”

Spock could not say he was surprised.

When they had beamed down to meet with the Emperor, his youngest daughter had immediately taken a shine to the doctor. He’d been on his best behaviour and showcasing the very best attributes of a true Southern gentlemen. As soon as he drawled “Charmed,” in his soft Georgian accent and kissed the back of her hand, it was clear she was totally smitten.

And when she’d been introduced as Clementine, the doctor hadn’t been able to resist singing a verse from the old Terran song. After that she’d followed him like a shadow, hanging on his every word and staring hopelessly at his kindly eyes.

The doctor had clearly not minded the attention since he’d continued to act quite charmingly and had been unusually generous with his smiles to the girl.

If Spock had realised then what it would lead to he would have certainly acted sooner.

Clementine, in the way of young girls with a crush the universe over, had decided she had to find a way to make the doctor stay longer. And the apparently obvious solution to her was to slip a sedative into his drink.

Unfortunately she hadn’t considered the differing affects it might have on a human body. When McCoy began to experience a severe headache she’d realised the error of her ways and tearfully confessed all. Her father apologised profusely, the girl begged McCoy not to hate her and the good doctor had absently patted her cheek and said she was a good girl, just like his own daughter.

It was perhaps a worse punishment for her than anything her father might have come up with. Spock had simply been relieved that the doctor’s interest had been platonic. While it was in character for Jim to encourage a young female’s interest, it was not common for the doctor to do so.

Spock realised his own thoughts were wandering inexcusably when he found they were now stood outside McCoy’s quarters with the doctor still humming to himself.

Quickly he opened the door and guided the human inside.

McCoy stumbled gratefully across and plummeted onto his bed.

Spock hesitated. Usually, he’d just leave McCoy in his uniform to sleep but they were wearing their dress uniforms today. The doctor often complained how uncomfortable they were and it was undoubtable that he’d be in even more discomfort if allowed to sleep in it.

“Doctor?”

“Hhhmmm?”

“You must remove your uniform shirt.”

“Hhm.”

McCoy made no move to do so and merely shifted so he was more comfortable. In the privacy of the room Spock allowed himself a sigh.

“I shall assist you,” he announced as he stepped up to the bedside.

His Vulcan strength allowed him to easily pull the doctor into a sitting position.

Although the man frowned and grumbled vaguely at him, he did not open his eyes.

Spock swiftly removed the dress shirt, taking the undershirt with it without any conscious intention. He then lowered McCoy back to rest on the bed.

_“Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’,_ ” the doctor began singing softly again. _“Oh my darlin’ Vulcan mine…_ ”

His voice trailed off and moments later had evened out into sleep.

Spock continued to stand and stare.

He did not doubt his ears because to do so would be illogical. However he did doubt the doctor’s intention. Lieutenant Uhura often sang songs inspired by her crew mates and it appeared to be a common practise among humans. There was usually nothing more than an intent to playfully tease behind the singing. Satisfied with the logic of that analysis Spock was about to leave but he then became aware of what his eyes had been focusing on.

The doctor’s frame appeared much frailer than he’d expected.

Of course, he knew statistically the doctor’s size, but somehow when the man was awake it did not strike him as so small. Perhaps because when he was awake his personality projected itself outwards to give a larger impression. Certainly his temper could make him appear far more ferocious than he really was.

Spock had overheard various crewmembers refer to the doctor as a ‘pepper pot’ and he understood that comparison now. For his size he held a lot of firey passion.

The Vulcan’s gaze drifted across the thin waist and noted the indentations caused by his ribs.

The doctor was by no means a fighter, except in the way he fought for life, but until now Spock had not appreciated how ill adapted he was for their rigorous lifestyle.

He abruptly realised that it was not appropriate to remain watching the doctor now the man was settled. He retreated to the safety of the corridor and headed for the sanctuary of his own quarters.

He needed to meditate.


	2. Lessons

“Alright then Spock.” McCoy bounced unconsciously on the balls of his feet. “How long’s it been since you went swimming?”

They were stood rather awkwardly by the ship’s pool. McCoy was wearing a pair of loose swimming shorts that seemed to highlight his small frame although Spock carefully kept his gaze on the human’s face. He would have ample time to fulfil his goal and assess the man’s physique during their ‘lesson’.

It was shortly after their last away mission that Spock had come to the conclusion he needed to assess McCoy’s strength more closely. With almost any other crew member he could have stated this necessity outright and either conducted tests himself or have them report to sickbay for assessment. With the doctor, this was obviously more problematic.

So Spock had devised a method to allow him to evaluate the doctor without seeming to do so. He had requested swimming lessons.

This was not only a cover for his study but also a valuable skill he could develop. And the doctor was the obvious candidate for him to ask both because of their friendship and his medical skills.

“At the Academy,” he replied. “We were required to learn the essential skills yet it is not something I have had cause to practise since.”

“So you don’t need teaching the basics?” McCoy confirmed. “Just support in practising?”

“That is correct.”

The pool on board was not equipped with a lifeguard although there were monitors to trigger an alarm should someone get into difficulty. It was expected that those who knew they were not strong swimmers should request assistance before entering the water.

“Right then.” McCoy bounced again. “How about we just swim some laps? See how far you can swim. That’ll set us a benchmark and you can then work on increasing it over time.”

“That would be logical,” he agreed. “May I observe your technique before attempting to duplicate it?”

McCoy arched a brow in silent surprise but simply replied, “Sure.”

Spock stepped around to the side of the pool and watched as McCoy lowered himself into the water.

His frame was well balanced, Spock noted. Arms and legs well proportioned. His torso, while not stocky and muscled as the captain’s, was not as fragile as it had appeared to Spock before. He could clearly see the arm muscles flexing.

As McCoy kicked off from the side and began powerfully swimming through the water Spock abruptly realised his physique was well suited to this activity. The sleekness of his structure allowed him to move through the water with grace. There was no useless splashing as his limbs sliced through the water deftly as a surgeon’s knife.

The doctor reached the far end and turned, legs kicking against the wall to propel him forward.

Spock studied him intently and came to the conclusion that while McCoy was not overly muscular, what he was was _lean_. There was no spare fat to his frame. All the roundness that Spock could observe along his arms and legs was purely muscle. Quite strong enough for his current activity but deceptively delicate.

McCoy gripped the edge and looked up through wet hair to Spock.

“Think you can copy that?”

The man was not even slightly out of breath.

“I do not expect to experience difficulties with the technique,” Spock sat himself down and carefully refrained from any expression of distaste as he slipped into the pool. It was illogical to dislike water.

McCoy glanced sidelong at him.

“All the same,” he suggested turning and lifting himself to sit on the edge. “I’ll watch you there and back in case you’ve picked up any bad habits.”

Spock found himself treading water next to McCoy’s compact calves.

“Vulcans do not pick up bad habits,” he replied primly, while letting his eyes study the stretch of muscles beside him.

“In that case there’ll be no problem,” McCoy retorted. “Now get going.”

Spock didn’t reply to that remark but simply turned and kicked off.

It was a few metres before his body fell into the correct rhythm, and then he found it slightly awkward when he came to turn, but by the time he returned to the doctor he was confident he’d forgotten none of the method.

He looked up at the human and arched an eyebrow in challenging enquiry.

“Fair enough,” McCoy allowed, once more joining Spock in the water. “Let’s see how long you can keep going.”

The pair set off again, this time with McCoy keeping pace alongside the Vulcan. Spock felt an illogical urge to try and outpace the human but quickly supressed it as foolish. Still, he was aware that McCoy was effortlessly swimming alongside him.

For a while this was most pleasant but Spock’s muscles were not used to this particular sort of strenuous activity and sooner than he expected he felt them protesting.

He must have shown his discomfort on his face because as they reached the edge once more, McCoy reached out a hand to still him.

“That’s enough for today,” he suggested.

“I will be able to go further,” Spock argued.

“This ain’t a contest,” McCoy smiled softly. “The point was to see how far you could swim _comfortably_. You’ll go farther tomorrow.”

Spock hesitated a moment, unused to being subjected to gentle coaxing from the doctor. It was far more usual for the man to argue and harangue him into acquiescence.

“Very well,” he agreed.

McCoy nodded once before shifting and lifting himself out of the pool. Spock followed suit and found himself surveying the doctor once again. Out of the pool he once more appeared more fragile and instinctively Spock wrapped one of the towels about him.

The doctor blinked in surprise.

“Thanks.”

Spock nodded his acknowledgement before retrieving his own towel.

It was only a natural impulse to seek to assist a frail, wet creature he reasoned. He would doubtless react the same way to any human in this situation.

But in future he would have to remember that the doctor was stronger than he appeared.


	3. Heat Wave

Almost the entire bridge crew were sweltering.

Something had affected the ship’s air management system so that it was turning everywhere into a virtual sauna. The crew were doing their best to maintain composure but it was beginning to stretch tempers.

“Kirk to Sickbay.” The captain toggled the switch on his arm rest. Nothing but static greeted him. “Uhura.” He swivelled to face the communications officer. “Can you raise sickbay?”

“I can’t raise anywhere Captain,” she replied with a hint of frustration. “The temperature increase must have damaged something in the computer.”

Kirk swivelled the other way.

“Scotty! How soon before you have this fixed?”

The engineer looked up from his station.

“Ay dinna know Captain. Ay can find the problems well enough but they’re distracting from the root o’ it.”

“Well… look harder!”

The harassed engineer frowned and nodded curtly, pausing only to wipe his brow again before returning his attention to his monitor.

Jim sighed.

“Scotty. I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best.” He offered the man a smile which was returned gratefully.

Kirk then turned to the only person seemingly unbothered by events.

“Mister Spock.”

“Yes Captain?”

Kirk hesitated, unsure what he actually wanted to say. He quickly prioritised.

“Head down to sickbay. I want an update on crew status.”

“Would it not be more efficient to send a yeoman?” Spock queried. “I am endeavouring to assist Mister Scott locating the source of the malfunction.”

Jim smiled a little at that.

“Spock, it may have escaped your notice but most of the crew are struggling to stay focused in the heat. If I send anyone else I can’t be sure they’ll _make_ it to sickbay.”

Spock nodded as he allowed that fact to be true.

“Very well.”

He stood and moved across to the turbolift. As he waited for the doors to close he saw Chekov stagger over to relieve his station. It occurred to him again that it might have been more beneficial to allow the crew on the bridge to strip off their shirts as other members of the crew were doing but he acknowledged that with bridge duty came certain levels of professionalism that should be maintained.

He arrived on level 5 and set off towards sickbay.

As he walked he passed a number of humans in various states of undress. He noted the occurrence but felt no particular interest. This, he reflected, was appropriate.

It had been some weeks since his swimming lesson with the doctor. While he had set aside time weekly to improve his stamina in the pool, he had not felt it necessary to invite the doctor again. Consequently it had been several weeks since he had observed a human in any state of undress.

Though he would never have admitted to being concerned about his interest in the man’s physique, he couldn’t quite deny his relief now that he was experiencing no recurrence to similar stimuli.

So it was with calm confidence that he stepped inside sickbay.

There were several patients apparently suffering heat related illness. Each was being attended by a nurse equipped with a handheld fan. Spock turned his attention away from the ward to seek out McCoy. He could hear the doctor speaking with Chapel from inside his office.

“It’s alright for you men,” Christine was saying. “You can strip down.”

Spock stepped into the doorway and stopped short. McCoy was sat at his desk looking flushed and wearing, from what Spock could see, nothing.

“It’s no fun for any of us,” McCoy answered before noticing the Vulcan’s arrival. He frowned. “Although maybe those desert dwellers amongst us are having a whale of a time.”

“That is a most illogical phrase to employ,” Spock retorted, fixing his eyes promptly on the wall several feet above McCoy’s head. He heard the doctor sigh.

“What do you want Spock?”

“The captain requires an update on the health of the crew. As communications are non-functioning he sent me to retrieve your report in person.”

McCoy sighed again before forcing himself up out of his chair. Spock was aware of the man moving around towards the exit but he carefully kept his gaze up.

“Are you coming” the doctor demanded from behind him and Spock swivelled to see McCoy’s back disappear through the doorway. He followed, his mind calculating rapidly before concluding his initial assumption about the doctor’s attire must have been in error.

As he stepped back out to see McCoy leant against the nurse’s station, he flushed.

The heat must indeed be affecting him if he had automatically assumed the man would be naked on duty. While McCoy had indeed striped his shirts off, he was still wearing his regulation trousers tucked into regulation boots.

The doctor turned and held out a PADD.

“Here,” he said. “Up-to-date crew report.”

Spock stepped close enough to take the pro-offered item and found his eyes once again surveying the angles of McCoy’s chest. There were beads of sweat caught in the curls of his chest hair.

“Thank you Doctor.” He quickly snapped his eyes down to survey the report. Unfortunately both the temperature and proximity allowed him to smell the doctor clearly. He breathed in and then flushed as he realised what he was doing.

“You okay?” McCoy asked with a hint of concern. “You look flushed.”

“The temperature Doctor.” He stood up straight. “Nothing more.”

And without allowing further enquiries he turned and walked briskly out of sickbay.

He had reached the safety of the turbolift before he suffered the realisation that he must have passed a half dozen half-naked crew members on his way and not noticed any of them. Yet he had most definitely noticed McCoy.

Again.

He stepped onto the bridge and resolved to put the entire incident from his mind until he had time to analyse it properly. Stepping down into the command well he handed the PADD to the captain.

“Thank you Mister Spock,” Jim muttered as he scrolled through the report. Spock waited fully expecting further questioning. He wasn’t disappointed.

“How was Bones?” Jim asked.

“Hot,” Spock answered automatically before flushing and clarifying. “The entire sickbay staff are suffering in the heat but are attempting to cool their patients as best they can. I would recommend prioritising sickbay for repairs if possible.”

Kirk eyed him in obvious amusement for a few seconds more before turning to speak to Scotty.

“Think you can do something to cool sickbay?”

Scotty looked thoughtful.

“If ay close off some ventilation shafts we might be able to get a bit o’ a breeze in there.”

“Do what you can,” Kirk told him before turning back to Spock. “Or perhaps I should suggest you take Bones swimming again?”

Spock refused to show any reaction to that remark.

“If the temperature malfunction is not fixed, that may be a logical suggestion.” He then turned and returned to his station, deliberately ignoring the captain’s calculating stare.


	4. Grumpy Cupid

“Dammit Jim! I blame you.”

McCoy’s voice was a low growl but Spock still glanced around to make sure no-one could overhear.

“You’re the one who wanted to appear as Gabriel,” Jim answered unconcernedly.

“Gabriel! Not Cupid! I’m practically naked!”

Kirk looked over his CMO. Apart from loose-fitting pants, he only had two thin straps crossing his chest to secure his fluffy white wings.

They had arrived at this planet because Starfleet were concerned the native population were being subjugated under a being such as the one claiming to be Apollo. The powers-that-be had decided the best thing to do would be to introduce some other gods and see what reaction it produced.

The crew had set up a betting pool with odds fairly even that they’d either be smited by a vengeful local deity or wind up being worshipped themselves.

So far though the natives had taken their arrival with wonderful calm, accepting them unequivocally. They’d even been invited to join their evening banquet.

“You don’t hear me complaining,” Jim admonished the angry doctor.

“You’re covered!” McCoy hissed.

Which was true. While Kirk had designated McCoy to be their equivalent of Cupid, he’d naturally chosen the role of Jupiter for himself. He felt he looked quite dashing in his toga and laurel leaves.

“Spock’s not complaining,” Jim pointed out.

They both turned to look at the Vulcan. McCoy couldn’t stop his gaze fixing on the bare chest of the First Officer masquerading as Pan. He didn’t dare look down at the leather pants.

“Indeed,” Spock remarked, gaze equally fixated on the doctor. “I am enjoying the view.”

McCoy blushed.

Spock suddenly seemed to realise he was being observed and averted his gaze away to the pastoral scene before them.

“There has been no evidence as yet of any supernatural being,” he commented quickly changing the subject.

Jim stared at him a moment longer before glancing again at McCoy, who was looking just as fixedly in the other direction now.

He smiled at his friends, knowing neither of them would see it.

“Well, I suggest we stay for the party. If any gods are going to make an appearance that’s probably when they’d do it.”

Both Spock and McCoy turned back to agree, caught sight of each other again, and swiftly looked back to the horizon.

“Fine,” McCoy muttered.

“Logical,” Spock agreed.

Jim grinned and led his friends down towards the tables. It was no surprise to him that they chose to sit on either side of him but that was alright for now. It gave him time to plan.

The food was plentiful and delicious. The drink was equally well flowing and soon everything felt much more relaxed again.

Jim listened idly as McCoy expanded on the inherent longing for nature experienced by most species. As he gesticulated with his hands, Jim noted Spock’s attention following the elegant digits.

At one point Jim excused himself to pay a brief visit to nature’s call himself. While that was certainly why he needed to move it also gave his friends a brilliant opportunity to close some distance in his absence.

Sadly as he returned he noticed Spock’s attention was caught by his dining companion on his other side. Jim was momentarily disappointed until he noticed the doctor’s gaze.

It was drifting down the exposed line of the Vulcan’s back and came to rest on the soft leather of his pants – where the focus remained.

Jim enjoyed his startled response as he sat himself unceremoniously back down but realised he needed to exert a little more pressure to push them in the right direction.

He was still pondering his options when a villager approached.

“Come. Let us see the skills of the gods. What miracles might you amaze us with?”

The tone was friendly but not every look cast their way was so accommodating. It was clearly time to put up or shut up.

“Very well,” Jim stood. “My two companions here have an ongoing competition. Pan here tries to lure our Cupid into his arms with his panpipes…” Jim laid a hand on Spock’s shoulder, more than aware of the alarm suddenly radiating off the Vulcan, “while Cupid attempts to draw Pan from his pipes by his own seductions.”

McCoy shot him a most venomous glare but Jim was too buoyant to care right now.

“But I warn you all. The radiating tension has been known to cause spontaneous combustion and has started more than a few fiery romances.”

He grinned widely as he sat himself back down between his two glowering friends. McCoy leaned close.

“If we survive this Jim, I will personally castrate you.”

Jim’s smile didn’t waver.

“Off you go you two.”

The villagers crowded in and guided the ‘gods’ to opposite sides of the clearing. As Spock fiddled with his pipes and McCoy awkwardly stroked down his wings, Jim noticed more than a few youngsters casting each other glances.

Yes, definitely a few romances tonight would be blamed on the gods influence.

The first notes from the pipes brought a sudden hush. Spock had chosen something low and haunting – not at all what Jim was expecting.

However it seemed to be helpful for the doctor.

A grateful look flitted across McCoy’s face, who had feared he’d be forced into some terrible jig, before he turned away, coyly casting a glance back over his shoulder at the Vulcan.

Jim found himself licking his own lips as he watched the dance unfold.

The music was _insistent_ … pervasive… commanding.

Yet it allowed McCoy to move slowly and with nonchalance. He didn’t cavort but he _stretched_ … stroked… and glanced briefly.

Kirk had to wonder if the doctor realised how it would affect the Vulcan to utilise his hands so blantantly.

And all the while the tune continued, hypnotic and incredibly seductive, McCoy sauntered teasingly closer.

Jim found himself being unintentionally affected and he saw far more than a few young couples sneaking away between the trees. No-one could deny the powerful performance of the two central characters.

And if this didn’t bring the two into each others’ arms then Jim would paint himself blue and call himself Shirley.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment a thunderbolt blasted down from the sky scattering everyone.

As Jim saw Spock and McCoy hurrying apart and back to his side he grit his teeth and determined whatever god-like figure had interrupted his plan was going to get absolutely no mercy.


	5. Laundry Day On The Enterprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to StellarLibraryLady's story for this chapter title. I still love that fic.

McCoy had, unusually, woken in a good mood.

Normally he sleep fairly lightly and felt he needed a little longer when the alarm went off. This morning though, he’d woken from a deep, dreamless and quite refreshing sleep, ready to face the new day with a smile.

Or he had been ready to face the day with a smile until he’d stepped out from the sonic and gone to put on his uniform. Only minutes later he was punching through a call to the captain with his more usual morning scowl.

“Goddammit Jim! All my clothes are gone! When I find out which joker in laundry decided to pull this stunt-”

“You won’t do anything dressed like that,” Jim pointed out with a grin.

“You’re the captain!” McCoy shot back. “Why don’t you throw your weight around and get this mess sorted?”

“I’ll have words,” Jim promised. “But in the meantime I suggest you borrow a uniform from Spock.”

“Spock?” McCoy paled.

“You can nip through the shared bathroom,” Jim pointed out reasonably. “And you both wear blue so, apart from your stripes, no-one will notice.”

McCoy nodded forlornly.

“Yeah, alright.” He pointed suddenly. “But just you let me know who did this and I’ll give them a physical they won’t goddamn forget in a hurry!”

“I have no doubt you will.” Jim answered before cutting the call.

The doctor continued to stare at the screen and considered his options. He wasn’t needed anywhere this morning. There was no reason at all that he shouldn’t simply comm requisitions and demand a new uniform be delivered. That would avoid any contact with the First Officer at all.

However he was well aware of why Jim had told him to borrow the clothes. Ever since _that_ party, McCoy had been doing his best to avoid Spock’s company. And McCoy was pretty sure the Vulcan was beating a hasty retreat every time he found himself in McCoy’s company too. It was clearly bothering Jim to have two best friends who weren’t willing to stay in the same room together.

More so since they were both senior officers aboard the Federation’s flagship.

McCoy sighed. He’d bet a dime to the dozen that Jim had arranged this little stunt himself and, while McCoy was more than a little annoyed about the manner of Jim’s tactics, he couldn’t quite deny why the captain had felt it necessary.

It wasn’t like Jim hadn’t tried subtlety. Invites to dinner and chess matches and teaming them on assignments hadn’t worked. If they’d dealt with the issue like grown-ups then Jim would have had no recourse to this childish prank.

They had to learn to work together again or else one of them would be forced to transfer and he honestly didn’t want that. For anyone.

So McCoy had to face Spock and show that he wasn’t affected by the… dance. For Jim’s sake if nothing else.

He headed determinedly for the bathroom but hesitated in front of the connecting door. Taking a deep calming breath he stepped through.

The Vulcan looked up as he entered and blinked.

Spock had not believed himself to be asleep, yet it was the only possible explanation. He lifted his head to better stare at the apparition that had come into his room.

Then he decided to sit up fully so he could study the vision in better detail.

After all, it wasn’t every day his mind conjured so perfect a dream and he should enjoy it fully while it lasted.

His eyes wandered from the flushed face down across delicate clavicles, sweeping along elegant ribs and following the path down to the top of the towel. The towel was admittedly inconvenient but at least he could still see the doctor’s tantalising calves and delicate ankles. His eyebrow rose appreciatively.

Proof again that he was dreaming since only the imagination could conjure such alluring appendages.

McCoy coughed awkwardly.

“I… uh… need to borrow some clothes.”

Spock’s eyes darted back to the beautifully pink cheeks. If the doctor wished for his clothes, then he should have them.

In one swift movement, Spock pulled off his shirts.

“Woah!” McCoy’s eyes widened, showing off their blue appeal to better advantage. “I don’t need the clothes yer wearin’. No sense in us both being naked.”

Spock stood as the doctor was still talking and stepped towards him.

“As it is _my_ dream, I believe you will find that I am in control Doctor.”

The doctor stared wide eyed and silent at him.

It made sense that the one time he could silence the doctor would be only in his mind.

Spock reached out his hands to trace along the beautiful bones structure before him, but no sooner did he make contact than he froze in alarm.

“Your thoughts,” was all he could manage to say.

McCoy arched a brow at him.

“Figured out you’re awake now have you?”

Spock snapped his hands back and retreated quickly.

“Forgive me. I…” he hesitated. How could he explain in such a way that would not ruin their friendship? It would surely drive McCoy from him if he knew how often Spock replayed the vision of the doctor from _that_ night. And indeed allowed the… dance to continue uninterrupted in his imaginings.

To his surprise, the doctor stepped after him.

“I’ll forgive ya,” McCoy swallowed briefly. “If you don’t stop.”

Spock stared at him awaiting some twist or retort.

“I… think about it,” the doctor murmured. “How our… role play might have played out.”

Cautiously, Spock reached out a hand again.

As soon as it landed on the doctor’s shoulder, McCoy sighed and his eyes drifted shut. Spock could feel the hum of his thoughts and confirmed this was in fact real. Gingerly he let his hand stroke down the doctor’s arm.

McCoy’s eyes snapped open and he met Spock’s gaze.

“You better take me to bed now or I warn you I shall be incredibly angry.”

Spock felt a smile tug at his lips even as he grasped McCoy by the waist and spun him around and onto his bed.

They could worry about clothes later.


	6. Snuggles

“I had informed you that you should have worn more layers,” Spock admonished gently as he passed McCoy a thick sweater.

“Ain’t nothin’ to do with layers,” McCoy muttered as he fumbled with the woollen garment. “I’d of caught this virus regardless.”

Spock watched quietly as the doctor tried and failed to find the opening.

To be fair, the doctor was correct. His clothing would have been perfectly adequate if he had not gotten lost on their away mission.

The mission should have been routine. Beam down, take some samples for analysis and return to the ship. However McCoy had not returned to the designated co-ordinates at the proper time. After waiting for him some time, Spock had told the others to remain at the beam up location and had gone to find the man himself.

It would not be wholly inaccurate to say he’d felt a momentary annoyance, thinking the doctor was being contrary on purpose because the Vulcan was taking everything so seriously. However, as his search continued to fail to find his partner, that feeling quickly grew into concern.

It was then he’d spotted the recently dislodged rocks and he’d felt a most logical sense of worry.

Descending into the ravine as quickly as he’d dared, he’d found to his relief that the human was at least not buried. However neither was he in sight.

Jogging along, he finally found him, wandering – cold, lost, forlorn – and had collected him up in an instinctive embrace.

It was only once safe back aboard the _Enterprise_ that it became apparent the over-long exposure had allowed the doctor to succumb to this virus.

“Dammit!”

Spock realised McCoy had succeeded in turning the sweater inside out.

“Allow me,” he intervened.

Deftly he slipped the soft material over the other man’s head and then worked to get his arms into the sleeves. This was hampered by McCoy’s attempts to manage himself.

Eventually though he was wrapped and sat hugging himself miserably. A shiver passed through him.

“You are still cold?”

McCoy didn’t bother arguing that but nodded numbly.

Spock only considered a moment before climbing onto the bed and situating himself up against the pillows. He held open his arms expectantly.

“Don’t ya have better things to do than play nursemaid?” McCoy asked hesitantly.

Spock lowered his arms slightly.

“There is nothing of greater concern to me than your health at present,” he said before raising his arms again.

This time McCoy crawled over and settled himself into them. Spock felt another shiver before the doctor sighed and relaxed against him.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “You will feel better when you wake.”

“You’ll stay?” McCoy murmured.

“As long as you need me,” Spock assured him.

The human’s arms tightened subtly round him.

“That could be a long time,” he warned.

“I can think of nowhere I would rather be.”


End file.
